


Tiny angry confused boys

by fictionalaspect



Series: Unfinished, Abandoned, Snippets, Bits and Pieces [11]
Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Angst, Hate Sex, High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-16
Updated: 2012-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-29 15:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/pseuds/fictionalaspect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hatesex! As you do. It's not a dynamic I write very often, so I wanted to try it.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Tiny angry confused boys

**Author's Note:**

> Hatesex! As you do. It's not a dynamic I write very often, so I wanted to try it.

Brendon is seventeen.

Brendon is seventeen, and he's fucking _fascinated_ with Ryan Ross, even with all of the other shit he has to deal with. Brendon has too many things to think about on a daily basis, work and school and the band and trying to figure out how he's going to afford next month's rent, and he really doesn't have time to be thinking about Ryan. Brendon can't figure him out. Ryan's weird, and almost shy in person, cutting his eyes to the ground, and then he goes and posts pictures of his ass on Livejournal. He can be a huge bitch when things don't go his way. He doesn't really trust anyone except Spencer, which is why it's so fucking weird that Ryan just started showing up at Brendon's apartment.

They're not even really _friends;_ they play in a band together, and Brendon sings Ryan's words and argues with him about chord changes, but they don't actually talk, and they've never hung out when it's just the two of them. The first time Ryan had shown up on Brendon's doorstep well past midnight, Brendon had blinked and then rubbed his eyes, like he wasn't sure he was seeing correctly. Ryan had just pushed past him and said, "I brought food," and fallen asleep on Brendon's shitty couch like it happened all the time.

So even if they've moved beyond that, even if Brendon is now used to Ryan sleeping on his futon three out of five nights of the week, Brendon still doesn't know _why_.

-  
Brendon rolls over on his side, and grimaces at the slide of his shoulder against the sheets. They're dirty, slick with sweat and the accumulated filth of two unwashed bodies. Brendon's doing some mental math, trying to figure out when he gets paid and where he can subtract from to come up with laundry money, when he feels a slight movement against the sheets.

Ryan's facing away from him. Brendon blinks in the dark, and peers closer, straining to see without his glasses. And - yeah. Ryan's shoulders are shaking. Brendon knows that movement, that feeling. He's spent too many nights alone and fucking miserable to let Ryan ride this one out by himself, so he reaches out his hand and lays the tips of his fingers on Ryan's back. He's just barely making contact, a gentle reminder, and maybe that's why he's so surprised when Ryan jerks and shoves his hand away.

"Fuck you," Ryan hisses at him, rolling over so he can see Brendon. "Leave me the fuck alone, asshole. I'm fine." His voice sounds shaky.

"Okay," Brendon says, drawing back a little from the force of Ryan's anger. He tries to modulate his voice, like he's soothing a wild animal. _A wild Ryan_ , he thinks distractedly, and fights the urge to laugh. "Okay. I just thought maybe—"  
"No, you don't," Ryan says. "You don't fucking know, so just lay off, okay?"

"Right," Brendon says. He listens as Ryan draws in a shaky breath, and then decides to go for broke. "But if you told me," Brendon says carefully, "I might—"

In response, Ryan makes a bitter, angry noise and kisses him.

It's not a nice kiss. It's too messy, too much all at once, and their teeth click together when Ryan pushes forward. Brendon swallows and opens his mouth to ask Ryan what the fuck is going on and Ryan slaps a hand over his mouth and breathes out, "Shut up." He climbs on top of Brendon and then leans back down, staring at Brendon like he's expecting Brendon to push him off. He looks like he's bracing himself for a swing to the jaw, eyes cold and fierce. He takes his hand away, and waits.

"You're so fucked up," Brendon says, and kisses him back. Ryan's hard against his stomach, and Brendon presses his tongue between Ryan's lips until Ryan opens up for him with a muffled whine. Brendon rolls his hips up and slips his hands under Ryan's t-shirt. Ryan presses down against him, and Brendon can feel every inch of Ryan's dick through the thin cotton of Ryan's boxers. It shouldn't be getting him hard, but it is.

Ryan pulls away and bites at Brendon's neck, sucking a bruise into the skin, and Brendon realizes with a sudden clarity that this is the worst possible decision he could have made. This is going to fuck everything up between them, absolutely everything, and so Brendon shoves his hand into Ryan's boxers and wraps it around his dick. The skin is smooth and warm in his hand. Brendon holds his hand there, waiting. He wants Ryan to ask for it.

"Fucking move," Ryan mutters. Brendon squeezes him, just once. He doesn't move his hand.

"Fuck," Ryan says softly. He presses his head into the crook of Brendon's shoulder and tries to roll his hips, but Brendon's got a firm hold on him and there's nowhere for Ryan to go. Brendon realizes distantly that he's kind of pissed off at Ryan, for this, for springing everything on him with no warning. He's not giving in until Ryan does. He listens to Ryan's shuddery inhalations until Ryan makes a quiet, pained noise and whispers, "Brendon, _please_."

"You don't even like me," Brendon says, and starts to move his fist. Ryan shakes his head at Brendon's words. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to Brendon's throat, sucking softly on the abused skin. Brendon speeds up his hand.  
Ryan comes with a strange broken gasp, like he'd been in the process of starting to speak before his orgasm overtook him. Brendon's stomach is suddenly warm and wet, along with his hand. Brendon feels his stomach muscles jumping; his balls tighten up at the feeling. He tips his head back and shoves Ryan off of him, and then reaches down to jerk himself off. He's under no illusions about Ryan being particularly generous, which is why it's a complete shock when Ryan pushes Brendon's hand away and closes his fingers around him.

"You don't have to," Brendon says, but it's a token protest. Ryan's fingers are long, and he's thumbing under the head of Brendon's dick. Ryan pauses for a moment; Brendon can't quite see his face when Ryan whispers back, "I know I don't have to." He sounds tired, broken-down, and Brendon feels a strange surge of longing that's entirely unconnected to Ryan's hand around his cock. Ryan has a habit of doing that to him, of catching him unawares and making Brendon re-evaluate all of his previous assumptions. Sometimes it feels like there's a wall of static between them, and they're shouting through the white noise.

Brendon opens his mouth to apologize—for what, he doesn't know—and Ryan kisses him. He slides his tongue past Brendon's lips, kissing him firmly, one hand on Brendon's jaw. It's a strange sort of kiss, one that leaves Brendon feeling raw and utterly exposed. He moans when Ryan pulls away.

"Shhh," Ryan says, and draws the tips of his fingers over Brendon's mouth. Brendon kisses the tips of his fingers, helplessly, seeking more contact. Ryan half-smiles at him, and dips his head, and then Brendon's back is arching because Ryan is sucking on the head of his cock and it feels so good Brendon's worried he's going to cry.

It's the first time someone has ever gone down on him.

Brendon can't think. He can't do anything other than feel, and Ryan smooths his palms over Brendon's thighs, around his hips, under his ass. He chokes a few times, before he figures out the hang of it. It's obvious he's never done this before. Brendon doesn't care. It makes something strangely possessive rise up in his chest, to think about Ryan doing this with him, and no one else.

"Ryan," Brendon chokes out. He fists his hands in the bedsheets. Ryan purrs around him, a low, pleased noise, and Brendon gasps and comes. Ryan doesn't pull away.


End file.
